


havana (ooh na na)

by orphan_account



Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Kim Wonshik | Ravi, Canon Compliant, Dom Cha Hakyeon | N, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, when i say bottom i mean sub but that's not a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 16:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A choked gasp tears its way out of Wonshik's throat, and he dips down to find Hakyeon's lips again, to drink his fill of Hakyeon, swallow him down like expensive liquor, just as smooth and just as prone to making Wonshik lose all sense of himself.Hakyeon's hips, swaying around the microphone stand as bass thuds in the background.





	havana (ooh na na)

**Author's Note:**

> by popular demand, here's this dirty thing i wrote in an hour for the prompt "hakyeon/ravi: sloppy/obviously aroused."

"You liked that, did you?" Hakyeon's smile is slow against Wonshik's jawline. He can feel Hakyeon's straight, straight teeth digging into the skin there. He tries to catch his breath. Instead, his shoulders slip, sweat-slick, against the practice room mirror. He can't _t_ _hink._

He stammers as Hakyeon goes still, presses himself against Wonshik and stays there and waits for an answer. Wonshik's mind is a swirl of _yes_  and _need_  and _want,_  all of it focused in on the swish of Hakyeon's hips around the practice mic stand, the line of his legs in the studio pants he'd worn to choreography practice. His long, deft fingers, stroking a delicate line down the metal, down Wonshik's thigh, still, _still_  waiting for an answer. Wonshik's mouth is dry. Hakyeon's breath is hot against his neck.

"I—yes, Hakyeon, yes—" A slow, sucking kiss to Wonshik's neck as a reward sets off sparks under his skin, heating him through, galvanizing him into a desperate, aborted grind against Hakyeon's sharp hip. Hakyeon drapes his arms over Wonshik's shoulders and yanks him off of the mirror holding him up, reels Wonshik in for a deep kiss, and Wonshik lets Hakyeon fist a hand in his fresh-bleached hair, lets his knees buckle in submission to the way Hakyeon tips Wonshik's head back and _takes_. Holds him in place and catalogues every part of Wonshik's mouth with his tongue, takes note of everything he possesses. So easy. Wonshik is so easy for the way Hakyeon controls him. And Hakyeon, ever self-indulgent, relishes the opportunity to have Wonshik ( _"pretty, messy Wonshik"_ ) melting under him.

"Tell me what you want," Hakyeon murmurs, and now his teeth scrape a path down Wonshik's collarbone, his tongue traces the upper limits of Wonshik's pectorals. Wonshik lifts his arms from where they've just been hanging, stupefied and useless, at his sides, gets a hold of Hakyeon's waist and pulls him impossibly closer, swaying with the impact of Hakyeon's lithe dancer's limbs against him. Still can't manage a full sentence, can only process that he wants Hakyeon now, however Hakyeon will have him. Hakyeon is so beautiful, and Wonshik is so weak to beautiful things.

Hakyeon slips a hand between them and strokes Wonshik once, firmly, through his shorts. A choked gasp tears its way out of Wonshik's throat, and he dips down to find Hakyeon's lips again, to drink his fill of Hakyeon, swallow him down like expensive liquor, just as smooth and just as prone to making Wonshik lose all sense of himself.

Hakyeon's hips, swaying around the microphone stand as bass thuds in the background.

It's quiet now except for the wet sound of hurried, wanton kisses, the harsh sound of their breath in the interim. The sudden whimper elicited by Hakyeon's fingertips pinching at Wonshik's chest, a not-so-gentle reminder that Wonshik has not yet answered Hakyeon's question, too distracted by the feel of Hakyeon against him, the arousal he swears is pressed up against his hip as Hakyeon's hands fall to Wonshik's ass, slide under his shorts, and _squeeze._ Wonshik's answering groan, drawn-out and abandoned, because Hakyeon's hands are _strong_ and it feels good and it hurts and it makes every part of Wonshik feel like it's turned to liquid gold.

"My mouth—" Wonshik begins, and swallows, tries again to catch his breath at odds with the way Hakyeon's fingertips have moved down and inward, to the insides of Wonshik's thighs. He squirms, says, "Let me suck you off, _please_ , Hakyeon—"

And Hakyeon smiles again, kisses Wonshik, delighted, and chirps, "Of course, Wonshikkie," like he's entirely unaffected, but Wonshik knows from the heat against his cheek when he all but collapses to his knees and buries his face between Hakyeon's legs that he is _entirely_ affected. His fingers fumble, clumsy with arousal, on Hakyeon's waistband, but Hakyeon's hands are on his, pushing the waist of his pants down and pulling Wonshik's head forward until his mouth is on Hakyeon, graceless and sloppy and perfect.

"Is this what you wanted, pretty Wonshikkie?" Hakyeon's voice is remarkably steady for the pace he sets, fucking Wonshik's mouth onto him roughly. Wonshik's throat hurts already when he groans in answer, attempts to marshal his senses into some sort of finesse, fails miserably when Hakyeon's finger fall from Wonshik's hair to the back of his neck. Stroke there, send shivers down Wonshik's spine. His shorts are damningly wet when he reaches in to get a hand on himself, letting his hips twitch into a tight grip as his mouth is taken again and again by Hakyeon, who's vacillating between breathy noises of pleasure and praise of Wonshik, telling him how good he is, how sloppy he is for Hakyeon, Hakyeon loves him, loves how needy Wonshik is. Wonshik's hips move faster into his hand, he does his level best to tighten his mouth around Hakyeon between gasps for breath and helpless moans, everything is hot and wet and Wonshik closes his eyes and _comes_.

He barely has the presence of mind to yank down his shorts, spilling on the scuffed floor to the sound of Hakyeon's keening praise. "Oh, _good_ , my Wonshikkie, _good_ ," Hakyeon moans, and his hips fuck shallowly into Wonshik's throat once, twice more, before he goes stiff and rigid with pleasure, pulls out just enough that Wonshik doesn't choke on the come that floods his mouth. And it's filthy and shameful the way he swallows it without a second thought, keeps his mouth on Hakyeon's dick for as long as he can before Hakyeon is kneeling in front of him, carefully avoiding the mess on the floor.

Hakyeon's face is creased in delicate concern as he swipes his thumbs under Wonshik's eyes. Sweat and tears shine on his fingertips. Wonshik's breath drags in heavy pants, and he's speechless, debauched and content and a litany of other adjectives he closely relates to Hakyeon. "Okay, Wonshikkie?" Hakyeon asks, now gentle, now earnest and anxious, and Wonshik would roll his eyes if he had the energy. He doesn't, so he settles for a nod and a slow, thorough kiss to Hakyeon's lips, pulling his shorts up so he can drag Hakyeon to him, coax Hakyeon's legs to spread around his waist and settle in for a nice post-fuck cuddle. To be fair, though, Hakyeon rarely requires much coaxing to be handsy.

"Actually, though," Hakyeon gets out between pressing kisses to Wonshik's face, "did I manage to capture the mood of the bridge with that choreography, or do you think—"

"Yes, Hakyeon, it was perfect," Wonshik mumbles, exasperated and, "You recorded the whole thing anyway, watch it back yourself."

"Did I—" Hakyeon pulls back, gasps, scrambles to the camera positioned in the corner. "Thank God. I did remember to stop the recording." Wonshik's cheeks burn as he hauls himself to his feet, stumbling off in search of cleaning supplies.

**Author's Note:**

> i'll answer comments on this if you give them~
> 
> twitter: slowlorisvevo


End file.
